


Sweet Thing

by magnetar



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Belly Kink, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Power Dynamics, Stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 21:53:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetar/pseuds/magnetar
Summary: He doesn’t quite want to call it a routine, even if that’s what they’ve fallen into. It’s more like a ritual, Hux worshipping at the beautiful alter laid out in front of him, taking the reins before letting them slip through his fingers. The push and pull of power, and the give and take. Still, the order of it is comforting: Kylo eats and eats until his stomach aches and then he comes to Hux’s quarters, round and shameless and needy. And who is Hux to ignore him?





	Sweet Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely for day 22 of Kylux Niche Kink November which was chubby kink/weight gain/feeding/stuffing. I've been too busy to write anything for the other days but I definitely wanted to write at least one thing, so here we are! I'm not convinced it fits any of those tags but I still wanted to post it, so sorry if anyone is disappointed <3 I hope someone will enjoy some small part of it anyway!

Hux is just settling in for a quiet evening - or, at least, as quiet evening by his own standards when the door chime sounds. His attention is pulled away from the stack of reports piled haphazardly on his desk for just a moment but he’s quick to force his eyes back to his work. Surely whoever it is will leave soon enough if he doesn’t reply and Hux can continue to enjoy his free time.

When the second chime sounds - longer and more insistent this time, Hux knows it can only be one person. Anyone else would’ve assumed that he wasn’t there, or correctly that he didn’t want to be disturbed. Anyone else wouldn’t have dared to impose on him, whatever Hux’s reasons. But his guest isn’t anyone. Hux pulls a report from the top of the pile and sets it in front of him, taking a long sip from his teacup - the flavour warm and comforting as it blooms over his tongue. He tries to hold out just a little longer.

‘Enter,’ he says, finally, after the third chime. He’s careful to try and sound detached even though he’s squirming in his seat with anticipation already. Hux refuses to let Ren have the satisfaction of knowing how much Hux likes this, how much power Ren has over him. How much Hux needs this.

Ren lingers in the doorway, like an oversized shadow – cloak billowing behind him and long hair falling in lank strands around his face, obscuring his face. It’s as if he’s not sure if he’s allowed to come in, even after all this time - as if he’s waiting for Hux’s rejection. Despite himself, Hux feels his chest ache.  

‘Ren, what do want?’ Hux says, making a big show of setting aside his reports and brushing imagined lint from his uniform, as if Ren is a simple annoyance. As if he isn’t checking Ren out, from the corners of his eyes – mapping every inch and curve of his body. Even in private, Hux can never let his weakness show, he can’t let Ren know his desires and the power Ren has over him.

As if he’s sensed Hux’s thoughts, Ren finally steps into the room and wordlessly makes his way over to Hux’s standard issue bed. His steps, Hux can’t help but notice, licking his lips in anticipation - are slow and measured, his arm cradled along the perfect curve of his stomach concealed beneath that dark uniform.

Ren sinks down against the headboard of Hux’s bed with a grunt, spreading himself across the comforter so that he’s propped up like he owns the place. It feels to Hux like Ren takes up the entire room and not just with his presence, the ever-present crackle of energy that follows him wherever he goes – like the moment of calm before a downpour, back on Arkanis. Ren’s shoulders are wide, now matched by the distended slope of his stomach and Kylo’s long legs take up the rest of Hux’s modest bed, boots and all. But Hux can’t find it in himself to complain when he can’t even find the strength to tear his eyes away - the sight of Ren has him mesmerised.

Ren is truly beautiful like this, truly himself and Hux craves it like nothing else. Seeing this side of Ren is not only a privilege - it’s an honour, a treasure more precious than any Resistance secret. Some (cowards and traitors, Hux mentally amends) would say that the stress of command is finally showing, that Kylo Ren is going to crack beneath the pressure. But Hux knows the truth - this is just for Ren. No matter how much Hux enjoys it himself, no matter the way that Ren will seek him out, this is for Ren himself.

He doesn’t quite want to call it a routine, even if that’s what they’ve fallen into. It’s more like a ritual, Hux worshipping at the beautiful alter laid out in front of him, taking the reins before letting them slip through his fingers. The push and pull of power, and the give and take. Still, the order of it is comforting: Kylo eats and eats until his stomach aches and then he comes to Hux’s quarters, round and shameless and needy. And who is Hux to ignore him?

‘I take it you need some assistance, then?’ Hux finds himself saying, striding across the room until he can kneel at the side of the bed. From this angle Hux can see the heavy curve of Ren’s stomach in full - the way it strains against the front of his tunic, and feels a flush of heat flow through him.

Ren doesn’t answer directly, instead fixing Hux with an angry glare that’s at odds with the delicate red blotches on his cheeks. Ren’s fingers move to the buttons of his shirt and start to work at undoing them, torturously slow and revealing inch after inch of pale skin.

Hux feels himself shudder, his mouth watering as Ren’s hands finally move to the button of his pants. Shame curls low and heavy in the pit his own stomach - at enjoying the sight of Ren so much, at his own weakness. It’s shameful, it goes against everything Hux was ever taught and yet that almost makes it even sweeter.

With the button out of the way, Hux can only stare as Ren’s stomach expands into the free space, coming to settle heavily in Ren’s lap. The sides still pooch over the waistband, framed by the hard-muscular angles of Ren’s forearms.

He can’t do anything but stare, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. Ren is a sight indeed, still as beautiful and entrancing as the first night he’d pushed his way into Hux’s quarters. Under the artificial lights, Ren’s skin looks almost translucent, his body lined with puckered and angry red marks – snaking across his shoulders and biceps like arrows directing Hux’s gaze to the centre of Ren’s body.

Free from clothing, Hux can see just how taut Ren’s gut is where it’s packed full of food. He’s sure it must hurt and yet Ren doesn’t seem to be in pain. Instead, when Hux’s tears his gaze away from Ren’s stomach and looks up at his face, he sees that Ren’s mouth is gently curved up into a blissful smile.

‘Hux,’ Ren says, his voice thick with pleasure and his eyes half-lidded - sated and lazy, yet still begging for more, ‘please.’

Hux complies immediately, raising up onto his knees and beginning to work his hands over Ren’s distended gut. He’s careful to keep the pressure light and his movements gentle, trying to soothe away any discomfort, following the slope downwards to the soft skin along Kylo’s waistband. Kylo’s quiet little grunts and hisses soon turn to moans. He’s enjoying the attention, Hux realises, the pain turned to pleasure.

‘You must’ve eaten a lot,’ he says, keeping his voice cool and detached to test Ren’s reaction. Ren moans louder, straining upwards so that the top curve of his stomach buts into the palm of Hux’s hand - begging for attention. ‘Were they staring at you?’ He prompts gently, just the hint of teasing in his voice.

Ren grunts, his eyes screwed shut and the ugly, blotchy blush spreading down his neck darkens perfectly. It’s not the answer he wants, but still Hux thinks Ren deserves a little kindness – from the beautiful picture he makes alone. Sometimes Ren needs a little persuasion to play this game, even if he’s practically begging for it.

Hux spends a few moments longer moving his hands there, where Ren’s stomach mounds away from the hard muscles of his chest, packed the tightest. It grumbles unhappily against his hands even as Ren’s breath ghosts across his cheek, in hot little moans. Hux can feel himself getting hard just at that, without evening having to be touched. The way Ren takes so much pleasure in his own discomfort is just so desperately, desperately arousing.

‘Yes,’ Ren admits finally, to Hux’s relief. He’d been starting to think that this game was off limits tonight. ‘I felt their eyes on me, one by one, never looking for long,’ Ren continues, slowly. ‘If I reached out with the Force I could hear their thoughts. They were… they were wondering if it was a new training regime.’

Hux’s chest tightens at Ren’s words - at how easy and pliant Ren becomes when he indulges himself. There is none of his usual anger or sadness or hurt now, and none of his attempts to wrench back control. Ren simply lays back and lets Hux take control, trusts Hux to look after him.

‘You did it on purpose didn’t you,’ Hux says, his voice a little harder this time. A little colder. ‘You wanted them to see you like this. See your control slipping. See what a glutton you really are.’ He punctuates his words with the lightest slap to the side of Ren’s stomach, so wide and bloated and perfect for his palm. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that he and Ren shudder in mirrored pleasure.

‘Yes,’ Ren huffs, tipping his head down submissively as if he’s ashamed. But through the curtain of limp, dark hair, Hux can see that his lips are twisted up into a smile of pure delight. ‘I wanted them to see.’

‘I wanted them to see me,’ Ren says, unprompted as Hux dips the fingers of one hand beneath the waistband of Ren’s pants. ‘I wanted them to see my control slip. I wanted them to see,’ Ren stutters, his big gut heaving up and down and Hux slips his fingers around the length of his cock. The other hand,

‘What did you want them to see?’ Hux says, trying to keep his voice even despite the way his own cock strains in the confines of his pants and every single one of his senses is focused on this, on what he knows Ren is going to say. He needs this just as much as Ren does.

‘How big I am,’ Ren says after a moment, tipping his head back against the headboard. Hux speeds his strokes on Ren’s cock, just a little, as a reward and gentles the hand on Ren’s gut - soothing little circles into the heated skin. ‘How kriffing huge and gluttonous,’ Ren moans, daring to meet Hux’s eyes for just a moment.

‘And I wanted them to see me come here,’ he says, voice breaking as he gasps. Hux is sure he must be close, pre-come beading at the tip of Ren’s cock. So, he doubles his efforts – moving his hands faster along the shaft and spreading Ren’s own pre-come over himself as his other hand smoothes along the plush softness of the bottom curve of Ren’s stomach. It’s almost too much for him, even without a hand on his cock, Hux can feel his orgasm on the edges of his vision as he surveys the sight beneath him - Ren sweaty and bloated beyond belief, his head thrown back in pleasure as he feeds Hux awful arousing guilty thought after guilty thought.

‘I wanted them to know how weak I am for you,’ Ren chokes out, ‘I wanted them to know that I stuff myself full of food and then come begging to you for help. That I would get on my knees for you.’

Without thinking, Hux brings his hand back and delivers a slap to the full curve of Ren’s gut - with barely any real force behind it, but enough to draw a long, low moan from Ren’s lips as he finishes over Hux’s hand. The sight is enough to send Hux over the edge with him, moaning as he comes untouched into his uniform pants, before collapsing down onto the mattress. They sprawl together on the too small bed, clutching at each other’s sweat-slicked skin for moments that seem to stretch out for hours.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ Hux manages to choke out, knowing how the words will make Ren melt, his hand still cradling Ren’s swollen stomach. And, despite the afterglow that’s still warming his limbs and making the world seem soft and bright, Hux knows that he means it. Only now, when his mind is blissfully sluggish, is Hux willing to admit it but he feels it with every fibre of his being.

‘I’m sleeping here tonight,’ Ren announces, already peeling back the covers and rolling underneath them like a sated loth cat – full, sleepy and sticky with sweat.

Hux forces himself upright, his knees shaking and threatening to give out at any second and stumbles into the fresher. The reports on his desk weigh heavily on his mind as he cleans himself off and freshens up his hair. He can’t afford any distractions – any decrease in his workflow would be costly and more importantly a sign of weakness, he reasons with himself.

His resolve is as strong as durasteel, until he steps back into his quarters and spots the large man sleeping peacefully in his bed, under a curtain of hair. Well, maybe one rather large distraction is permitted, he amends regretfully.


End file.
